The Silence Ripe With Openness



Summer is not what it used to be.

The long days in the garden with my boy,

the walks to the park and the wandering through the Zoo are all gone.

We have reached a New Place: Change.

My son is a teenager. He is becoming a man.

He still talks with me, tells me his fears and his dreams.

He still wants to spend time with me; not much, but some.

We wander the zoo and the museum;

I follow far behind he and his friends.

We still spend time in the park, but now I am sitting on a park bench

while he and his friends search for the elusive geo-cache.

I am alone now and that is the Right Thing.

I listen when he wants to talk. I no longer ask “Whats up Kiddo?”

I wait for the silence that has that certain quality of openness;

the silence that says   “Go ahead. He is with you now.”

 My son is a teenager and with that comes the rolling of eyes,

the stomping around.

I hardly ever want to sell him to the gypsies.

I am ever grateful for the moments of silence ripe with openness.

Sitting on the park bench talking with my sister,

my best friend, my heart, on a park bench yesterday

I could hear my niece yelling “Hi! Hi! Hi!” in her English lilt.

I spent my time on the park bench talking with my sister best friend.

She calls from England and that time is precious.

I listen to she and my brother-in-law, banter with Our Ella Bee.

I listen to my sister and wonder what  she looks like now,

the baby due so soon.

Another child to welcome into our fold; another boy on his way.

I marvel at my sister.

I marvel at her amazing mothering, her caring, her sharp Winkel tongue.

I am proud of my sister and I am honored to share blood with her.

Our mother.

Our mother was not there for us. She was not the mother that we are.

Yesterday in the park, after ending our phone call,

I thought about Mommy and all that she missed.

My sister is amazing. She always has been. My mother missed out.

I am realizing that her absence during the day

was the lack of booze running through her system;

she was not a day time drinker as other family members were.

Her daytime absence was the waiting;

waiting for the booze.

I am realizing that her absence at night was the booze taking hold.

It took hold and Mommy was


Mommy missed out on raising us.

She missed out on the moments on the bench,

the moments in the car driving hither and yon

 waiting for silence that has that certain quality of openness.

We were open and Mommy missed it.

We were open and we had each other; my sister and I.

We never wanted to sell one another to the gypsies.


We wanted to be there for each other.

We wanted to be there for the silence that has that certain quality of openness.

Mommy missed it.

Mommy was waiting for the booze to kick in.

Yesterday in the park,

waiting for my son and his friend to return

flush from the discovery of yet another geo-cache,

I thought about my sister and her family.

I thought about the baby.  Let me say that again:

I thought about the baby.

I heard my niece saying, “Hi! Hi! Hi!” in her English lilt.

I thought about my sister and her husband and our love.

I thought about my son and his friends

and his changing

and I thought about the Baby on his way.

Mommy missed it.

Mommy missed us.

Yesterday in the park, waiting for my son, thinking of my sister and our Family,

I cried for all that my mother missed.

WE are a Treasure.

We are that hidden elusive treasure that Mommy could not find

at the bottom of ANY bottle.

Mommy missed us

and for that I cried.


The baby is due next month, a little boy. Our Ella Bee will be a big sister

and the cousins will be adding a new one to the fold.

Our Family, built of  Blood and of Love is growing.

Life is Good


Memory is



Peace,   Jen


~ by Step On a Crack on July 20, 2012.

7 Responses to “The Silence Ripe With Openness”

  1. WOW OH WOW! You sound so together. I mean, yea, you may have the moments of “OMG, my mom missed E V E R Y T H I N G!”

    But you, my friend, have it all!! You sound really positive: Family is well, sister excellent … a new Winkel-ite (well to me he will be a Winkel) … from Strong Women come their NAMES! BECAUSE I SAID SO! Missing you a lot! It sounds like life is full for you! Can’t wait to see you again. Love you, Mel


  2. I was crying reading your post. Before you mentioned my name. Bee asked why I was crying and I said ” I miss Auntie Jenn” Bee said “Get in the vroom vroom and go?”… Oh how I wish I could get in the vroom vroom and come see you. I miss sharing the bench the difficult questions from the boy, and the spicy skipza in the garden. We are good. Sad but good tiny boy and all. Thinking of you all. Missing you all. Love APE


  3. Yes, you are a treasure and YOU are missing NOTHING! A mother/son, precious, always precious. Your post made me think of those days when our son was younger. The movies I saw with him I never wanted to see but went because he wanted me to. The scary ride I sat in with my eyes squeezed tight the whole time because he wanted me to be part of it. Those days would end and they weren’t going to end because I said no. All the days I cheered him on and now he cheers me on. We celebrate each other and look forward to the times we’ll share.

    A mama’s heart. You have it, fully birthed in you and fleshed outside you. Breathe in deeply and soak it in. You’ll savor it the rest of your days. xo


  4. Oh WOW–I’m speechless, Jen. God bless you and your family, abundantly–love, Caddo


  5. beautiful. Our moms did miss a lot but we aren’t missing anything.


  6. Wonderful. Wonderful!


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